Dress Distress
by LilyGhost
Summary: A crime Rangeman was hired to solve and stop puts Stephanie in a position she wasn't expecting.


**All familiar characters belong to Janet. Any mistakes are mine alone. **

"This wedding dress is itchy," I informed Ranger.

"You're tough, you can take it, Babe. We don't have much longer to wait if my guess is a correct one."

I scratched my shoulder where the obnoxiously-white lace was particularly unbearable. "You're always right, especially when we've discovered a pattern to a skip's behavior. But however long we have left is _too_ _freakin_' _long_. I hated doing this when I was actually getting married, never mind cinching myself into this kind of crap just to catch a skip."

He ran his eyes all over me, and my body was suddenly shifting but from another feeling other than a scratchy reaction to fabric designed solely to torture women.

"If it's any consolation, you look beautiful," he said to me.

"Thank you, but that doesn't make me feel any better ... _physically_. Emotionally and internally, though, I'm squealing like a six-year-old."

That got me a hundred-watt grin, which was unfortunately interrupted by an overly helpful saleswoman.

"That dress looks fabulous on you," she said with an obviously-fake amount of enthusiasm.

I can tell she's hoping for a quick sale by using a compliment or two. If only getting what you want were that easy.

"Thanks," I told her. "But it's not 'the one'."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

She glanced from me to Ranger and then back again. "And what does he think?"

"That I need to feel really comfortable to even consider getting married," I quickly answered for him.

Having experienced Ranger-humor in the past, I was worried what he may say just to amuse himself until Millie Mainor showed up here like he predicted she would, since it's the last bridal shop she 'purchased' something from. When Ranger asked me to be his partner for today's capture, I thought it was because he was apprehending a woman and didn't want to risk a possible legal situation from someone who really wants to stay out of jail. Which if I thought about it, I'd know my presence is not totally necessary because every fleet vehicle is equipped with monitored cameras that keep Rangeman employees safe in another capacity.

But now I fully believe I was slated to be today's entertainment. And he was enjoying watching me go through what I thought was the motions of capturing our FTA inside a wedding boutique without tipping her off or getting anyone hurt. When in reality ... he had his own motives for this takedown.

"We're in no particular hurry," my _partner _told the woman. "We can look at other options."

"_NO_ ... we can't," I tried to say. "We have other things to do today."

"Such as?" My physically perfect, but deviously-minded superhero asked, putting me on the spot.

"Dinner at my parents' house," I said, sure that threat would get him sticking to our original plan, which was to come here, hang around for a few minutes, and then nab our skip.

"Your parents eat at six," Ranger said, leaning back against the wall that gave him a good view of the front door and also me. He's clearly enjoying the hell out of this. "We still have plenty of time if you'd really choose to skip a restaurant date and eat in the Burg tonight."

He would say that, since _he's _still wearing his Rangeman uniform, while I'm in a shoulder-to-floor nightmare ... consisting of lacy shoulders that continued all the way down to my wrists, a rigid boob-to-hip column made from some type of unrelenting material, and a zipper I almost strained a muscle trying get closed.

"I'm just going to go get redressed in what I came in here wearing," I told both the lackey and the instigator. "This isn't working out like I'd planned."

Wrong choice of words for someone hell-bent on selling something that would be in the thousands.

"Before you do that, I have something else you can try on," said the sales-schlepper. "Right before we opened this morning, we received this absolutely stunning gown that I think will look gorgeous with your coloring."

"What could you possibly have that goes with see-through skin and dark, crazy hair? A coffin-shaped cape covering a mortuary-themed gown?"

I realized my mistake when she smiled. "I know that you're just joking around with me. I'm so glad you asked what we have out back. Don't move. I'll be right back with what I _know _is _the _... _perfect _... _dress _for you."

"We're not going anywhere," Ranger _assured her _as he _annoyed me_.

"Can you at least pretend to enjoy this a little _less_?" I asked him.

"No."

"Have you come up with a logical reason why we couldn't have just taken this FTA down in the parking lot and nixed the 'torture Stephanie' aspect of the job?"

"I didn't hear you complaining about playing dress up," he pointed out, "when I suggested maybe you should go undercover under one of the gowns."

"You weren't paying attention then."

"I _always _pay attention when it comes to you. If you had a problem with this, I feel confident that you would've told me _all _about it, at length and at a high decibel level. Is there a reason why you didn't mind indulging me by trying on a few dresses?"

I'm not in any real hurry to examine or discuss that one, so I was actually happy to see the saleswoman coming back with a new gown folded over her arm.

"I think you'll like this one," she assured me. "It has your name written all over it. I'll bet anything that it fits you like an absolute dream."

Being told that I'll like something doesn't typically work in the person saying it's favor, but I did yank the hanger out of her hands after experiencing three seconds of Ranger's _I-dare-you_ stare. With more than a little irritation, I stomped back to the fitting room I've had all to myself for the last ten minutes.

I'll admit to myself only ... the gown really is pretty. There's basically no back and barely any staps, but there is enough material gathered and artfully-draped at the bustline to make what I have look even better ... and bigger too. The simple sheath-style body of the dress did fit like I'd been measured for it. But what I liked the most about the gown is it isn't angel-white. It has the barest hint of an ice blue hue that overall appeared brilliantly-white until you look closer and realize something more is going on just below the surface.

The only problem I can currently find with it, is the hem is pooling on the ground. If I'd had my FMPs on, I'd have an extra four inches of leg. My eyes took a turn around the fitting room until they landed on an adequate solution. I don't have proper heels, but I _do _have the Cat Boots I'd unlaced and shoved out of the way in a corner. They're not equipped with stilettos, but the take-no-shit square two-inch heel and added inch-tall lug sole, would keep the dress from completely dusting the floor.

I thought I'd found a good alternative with what I had on hand, but I rethought that when I saw how humorous Ranger found my half-bride/half-Rangewoman appearance.

"Babe."

"_What? _It's not like I was dressed for a distraction job today. This dress required some extra height, so I gave it some."

I walked over to the full-length mirror to check out what Ranger found so friggin' funny. But I have to say, even with the boots ... I look pretty damn good. For someone who would be stupid-enough to get married again that is.

"We'll take it," Ranger told the chirpy dress-pusher.

"Huh?" I asked, not understanding why he'd say something like that.

We're here to apprehend someone, not do some too-personal shopping.

"You can ditch the dress now," he said to me. "It needs to be wrapped up so we can take it with us when we're ready to leave."

While I stared incredulously at his reflection in the mirror, the saleswoman beamed up at him, totally under his spell. No question she's also experiencing a shopping high from a seller's perspective. I had glanced at the tag before carefully slipping the dress on, and I know she'll likely be getting what amounts to a down payment for a new car for making this sale.

"I have to say, this is the first time I've seen the groom come dress-shopping with the bride. Usually it's a mother, best friend, or sister. Times really have changed from when I first started working here six years ago."

I was shaking my head in the negative, ready to tell her that while Ranger and I _are _very much a couple, we're a couple who've only mentioned marriage after one of us almost got killed again, as a joke to scare the other, or to piss off some people I unfortunately know. I saw Ranger grin after flicking his eyes briefly to the left. I wasn't given a chance to set anyone straight.

"Showtime," he told me, reaching for his cuffs.

That's when I spotted Millie Mainor walking in, ready to return a gown in what our Rangeguys and I uncovered is her trademark way. She 'buys' a dress and brings it home ... only to quickly recreate it, return the knock-off, and then sell the genuine one-of-a-kind gown online at a jacked-up price. Not a bad scheme if you have an eye for detail and know how to sew quickly, but Jersey's boutiques aren't appreciating her skill or her targeting them. And one of the pricier stores hired Rangeman to find her fast to prevent yet another theft.

We're now seconds away from doing just that. My dress, boots, and I left the looking glass and I mentally shook myself out of this wedding-rabbit hole I'd somehow fallen into, and I wasted no time getting back to doing my job.

I took the cuffs Ranger offered me and put them on a stunned Mainor as he informed the owner of this boutique what was going on and promised them that Rangeman would track down the original dress they'd supposedly sold to her and return it as soon as it's located.

Bobby and Woody arrived to take her to the TPD, since Ranger and I did discuss plans for after the job. I became as amused as Ranger had been fifteen minutes ago, when the guys stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of me.

"I didn't think this was a job that required a disguise," Bobby told me.

"Neither did I. Apparently _The Boss _wanted some entertainment while we were waiting."

"Not that you asked," he said, "but that's the one."

I glared at him. "DO NOT encourage him. If I weren't zipped into this, I'd now offer to take her in myself."

"Hell, Steph, you _should _bring her into the station with that on. I'd give up my next paycheck to see Morelli's face when he sees you in that get up. We all know you and The Boss are _tight_, it's about time that knowledge knocks some sense into him."

"Hmmm ..."

That could be a fun knife-twist ... Joe believing that Ranger and I are already ready to discuss marriage.

"Not going to happen, Steph," Ranger told me. "He's not getting anywhere near you right now."

I wanted to dig my boot heels in and declare my independence. Truth is, I didn't appreciate Joe camping out in the hall leading to my apartment when he found out that I did the opposite of listen to him and headed straight to Ranger the second I was officially free. I was as unpleased with Morelli's cursing me out and insulting Ranger as he was with me wanting to build a life with Batman, so I've been okay with doing apprehensions but letting Ranger or the guys make the douchebag drop-offs. I've also been alright with staying longer and longer on seven ... and not just to avoid Morelli.

"Okay, I have no problem with that. I'm happy with just changing and having a quiet dinner with you either at home or out somewhere that offers cheesy pasta as an entrée option," I told Ranger.

"Those are plans enough for me."

I thought it was the end of our weekend workday when I handed the wedding dress back to the woman after carefully putting it back on the hanger for the next unsuspecting woman to try on. But instead of her putting it back wherever it'd been hiding, she continued onto the counter with it. My stomach tightened further when Ranger pulled out a Bat-card in order to pay for it as the guys made a hasty exit with our skip.

"I thought you were kidding about buying that thing."

"I never kid, Babe."

"Yeah, you do. It's usually just restricted to twice a year. I was telling myself that you're down to one now."

He ignored me until he had the bagged-box in his hand. "This could come in handy," he told me.

"For what? I don't really see this as being a popular scam. It takes too much forethought and sewing skills for an everyday idiot to pull off."

"Next time we need to take down an asshole inside a church, reception hall, or bridal store, we'll be set."

"Are you being serious?" I asked, stopping him before we'd reached his Cayenne.

"Yes."

"About it being used as a prop for a job?" I pressed.

"No."

I told my heart and stomach to settle down, but they both continued to jump despite my direct order.

"Is there something we need to discuss?" I asked him, as he opened the back door of the Porsche to deposit his purchase.

"Would you be ready to?"

"I don't know. I wasn't expecting to tackle anything beyond a skip today."

"Consider the subject open whenever you'd like to explore it."

"Are _you _ready to?" I asked, not sure what I was hoping his answer would be.

"Yes. And I would be in favor of it if that knowledge alters your stance on marriage."

_Gulp_.

I felt like he deserved some type of answer back, but I honestly wasn't sure what to say to him.

"Don't destroy brain cells thinking about what you assume I want to hear, Steph," he said, as he slid behind the wheel once I was tucked into my seat. He turned his impressive torso my way rather than starting the engine. "When you decide that you're comfortable stepping up our relationship, you now know you can bring it up with me anytime."

"Are you saying you're not scared to marry me? Or of _being_ married to me? I can be a lot to handle at times."

"I've survived various forms of hell in too many different hellholes to count, I'm not scared of anything at this point ... _except _for not having you beside, behind, or underneath me. If you're happy with how things between us are, I am too. But if you're afraid to think beyond a tomorrow with me, you have no reason to be. However long you want me, I'm yours."

I glanced towards the backseat before cutting my eyes back to him. "I'm yours, too. _Completely_. I know I have nothing to worry about - or doubt - with you."

"Do you?"

I paused for a beat as I put some brainpower into my answer to that. "Yeah ... I really do."

No matter when we decide to take the plunge, I suddenly took comfort in the fact that 'The Dress' is with us for whenever we're going to need it.


End file.
